Darklight
by Roguishly
Summary: When Danger Room Sessions become more intense, Rogue absorbs Remy, but ends up getting more than just what Jean required of her. Will Remy be able to save Rogue before she paves a path of destruction? ROMY.
1. Black Wave

**1**

The Black Wave

The mansion was near empty, which was somewhat a sigh of relief for those who decided to stay inside, and there was only one: Rogue. She was curled up on a bay window in her bedroom drinking cocoa. The snow was so deep even Colossus' head could hardly be seen above the drifts. She pulled her gloves off, palms sweating from the added heat of the cocoa; placing them beside her before running the length of them with a free bare hand.

It had always seemed so trivial that the fabric of her gloves stirred something within her. Something so deep seeded it made her crumble sometimes. But today was not that kind of a day, as she ran her hand along her gloves' fabric. She felt warmth and security until her door was opened by a partially gloved hand; fingers cut.

As the door swung open swiftly without a creak, Remy LeBeau stood framed in her doorway, kindling eyes softly on her, ruby on black.

Instinctually she pulled her gloves back on, the length of them covering her up a bit past her elbows.

"Remy," She said cordially, her emerald eyes casually giving him a slight once-over.

"Chéri," He replied, taking his name being recognized as an invitation to step past the threshold into her bedroom.

"Comment allez-vous?"

"Fahne," She replied shortly, suddenly not really feeling up to much conversation.

"De' Cajun on'y come t'ask why d'belle ain' out playin' in de snow. S'yo weather, non?"

She sighed. The Cajun had proved quite a point. It was times like this that she could honestly get away with being covered head to toe in layers of clothes and not feel weird about it. So instead of answering she drank some more cocoa.

"Remy understands," He said, deciding to take a seat beside her on the window. "Winter ain' time fo' us."

"Us?" She asked, quirking a brow at him, the mug near her lips seeming to muffle her response.

"Oui mon chéri," He nodded. "You an' I, we come from de south. We 'rather have sunny days, an' trips down de bayou den' trips out in d'snow."

Rogue nodded absently. That wasn't the reason she wasn't out in the snow today at all; apart from the reason that she completely didn't feel like it. It would've taken way too much energy, energy Rogue didn't seem to possess. The past week had been intense. Exercise after exercise in the Danger Room. She thought Scott was going to be drilling them for forever. Not to mention practically all the exercises involved contact… _actual_ contact with the very person who sat beside her. Jean had implanted whereabouts of fellow team members in Remy's mind, and she had to retrieve them. Problem was, she got a bit more than she'd have liked, and now she was dealing with the side-effects alone. Bouts of crying, flashes of terrible memories she knew weren't her own, of heists, murders and abuse. Remy was definitely a tormented soul. More than he let on, more than he let anyone else see.

"Y'seem troubled chérie." Remy noted, his eyes expressing a deep worry.

"Ah…" She paused, feeling this rush of…No, this black _wave_ of memories seeming to consume her. "Ah'm sorry," The southern belle choked. But Remy couldn't feel what she could, could he? They were _his_ memories after all.

"Sorry fo' what, Rogue? Y'ain' done nuthin' wrong." His eyes seemed to be even more worried now, protective.

"But ah _have_…" She whispered, tears spilling over the brims of her eyes and out onto her pale cheeks. "Daddy hates me…" She said her voice nearly inaudible.

Suddenly, with terrible shattering realization, Remy finally, fully understood. He vaguely recalled his biological father's abuse, now. But for Rogue, it must've been fresh, raw, and terribly hurtful.

Remy pulled Rogue into his arms, cradling her like a child, stroking her brown and ivory streaked tresses gently, comfortingly.

"Fo'git about him, Rogue." He said softly, "Y'remember Julian, don' you?"

"Ah don' unduhstand…" She said weakly from somewhere around his chest. "Y'were too little t'…"

Remy nodded, "My pops was real bad, beatin' mon mere up all de time. Don' know why I 'member it, but I do. I always thought it was my fault dat my pops abused mon mere."

"Oh," She closed her eyes, nuzzling his chest as the memories began to ebb away for the meanwhile, the warmth of Remy's arms pulling her from her horrid reverie.

Despite Rogue quieting, Remy continued to hold her. Rogue had never been more of a teammate to him since they had met, and now it was different. There was this bond between them now, both seeming to have a part of the other. Something Remy LeBeau had never felt before.

And it was heartbreakingly incredible.


	2. Darien

**2**

**Darien**

**A/N: Darien is copyrighted to me. **

A few weeks had passed since the incident in Rogue's bedroom; most of the snow having been plowed, or melted away. Rogue sat in the War Room, a simulation in front of them. But she wasn't really paying attention. She was too busy watching Remy's eyes glow from across the room. It was comforting a few weeks ago, but now, somehow, she found his gaze to be a bit unsettling. She finally knew what was behind the mask and she wasn't too sure she liked it all that much; at least, not anymore.

Once the session was over, Remy caught up with her, worry chiseled onto his handsome face. "Chéri," He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Yo' bin' worryin' moi wit bein' so shady."

Rogue felt somewhat a shockwave run through her when he touched her, and she jerked away, casting him a cold glance.

"Ah'm sure e'it don't mattuh much." She replied flatly. "Jus' git away from me…" With that she shoved through the throng of oncoming students and escaped up into her bedroom. But she was honestly surprised to find someone already there. Someone she did not recognize in the least bit.

"Who're you, an' why y'e'in here?" She asked, eyeing the boy who sat on her bed with slight annoyance. She couldn't help but notice that he was handsome, though. He had white hair a bit past his jaw, a silver spiked lip ring in the middle of his bottom lip, a strong chin, and piercing blue eyes. His attire was a pair of blue plaid pants adorned with zippers, rings, and suspenders. A long sleeved mesh shirt with thumbholes and a black muscle shirt overtop. Combat boots on his feet that probably had been worn for years on end, but they only looked a little rough around the edges.

At being acknowledged, the young man looked up into Rogue's eyes.

"Just got here…" He said, giving her a once over, and not really thinking much except that she was just pretty. And that he must also be in the wrong room, considering this one was already occupied.

"Although, I was wondering a bit about the frilly curtains…" He quipped with a smirk.

Rogue rolled her emerald eyes skyward, clearly not in the mood to deal with some punk kid who had decided to take a laugh at curtains she thought to be very pretty and distinguished.

"Git out." She told him firmly, gaze slightly unwavering. "Yer' room's prolly on the next floor."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He asked with that same wit as before taking that as his cue to find his actual room, closing the door with a soft _click_.

Rogue plopped down on her soft bed, heaving a heavy breath before suddenly realizing, around that kid, all the bad thoughts and memories that seemed to haunt her had gone away for that short while. But maybe that was because deep down within her new 'Remy Memories' she knew him from somewhere…

The question was: "_Where_?"


	3. Angels

**3**

**Angels**

It had been a couple days since Rogue had seen the likes of Darien or Remy anywhere and it was starting to make her wonder if maybe it was best she didn't talk to either of them for a while… But right when she'd decided that she walked into the kitchen, the sun barely coming up; her eyes fell onto Darien sitting at the island in a _Rancid_ shirt that was horribly worn, and had a few holes, accompanied by some black cotton PJ pants, his feet bare, gripping the rungs of the stool he sat atop of, smirking as she walked in. Rogue said nothing to him as she poured herself her morning coffee.

"'Morning, Stripes." Darien greeted her, nursing come coffee of his own.

Rogue grumbled, taking her seat opposite him on the island; settling with her coffee, and drinking heartily, taking her pent-up aggression out on the highly caffeinated beverage.

Darien laughed into his coffee, blue eyes rolling skyward in mock annoyance at Rogue's attitude towards him.

"You have _no idea_ who I am, do you?" He asked her, tucking a strand of white behind his ear.

"Nope," She replied, emerald eyes only on him for a second. "an' I don't think ah wanna know."

"Fair enough, hell, if I were you, I wouldn't want to know me either."

Rogue nodded. "But… What— "Can I do?" Darien supplied. This made Rogue nod again.

"Ah,_ that_ Stripes, is a _mystery_." He grinned, but soon his face fell. "A mystery I'm not so sure I'm all that happy in confiding anymore, or divulging."

Rogue polished off her coffee, and poured herself another cup, offering Darien one to which he obliged.

"But you used to be happy about e'it?"

"Sort of," Darien began honestly not all that sure where to start, really. "Let's just say I'm a very, _very_ old friend of Gambit's."

Rogue nodded slowly, she wanted to argue the fact that Darien was way too young to have known Gambit ages ago, but with some technology the Shi'ar and other entities had, it wasn't all that unlikely that Darien knew him.

"A very old friend that owes _quite _the favor," He added as a slight afterthought.

"Would y' jus' spit e'it out already?" Rogue said rather irritably.

"Sorry, no-can-do but I'm sure he can help you out." Darien offered, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door which Remy happened to be walking through with his own mug of coffee.

Upon seeing Darien, the mug that was once secure in Remy LeBeau's hands slipped free, smashing into a million pieces on the floor; his mouth slightly agape.

"_Mon Dieu,"_ He choked, "_L'ange, de mort_…"

Darien looked at Gambit rather blankly, hardly acknowledging his exclamation.

"I know Gambit owes you, mon frère, please, jus' gimme some mo' time."

Darien face turned serious then, no ounce of sympathy within his eyes. "I believe a century has been enough time, LeBeau."

Rogue looked from Darien to Remy, even more puzzled than before. This kid was the 'Angel of Death'? For some reason she had a hard time believing that, apart from the fact, the odds of Remy owing killer angels anything was ludicrous.

At seeing Rogue's confused face, Darien spoke. "LeBeau, I think you owe your girlfriend a bit of an explanation, here."

Remy nodded, ashen faced, while he pulled up a stool to the island joining Rogue and Darien.

"Chère," He began, taking her hand in his. "Lemme begin dis' by sayin' y'ain' gonna like what Remy's 'bout t'tell yo…"

Rogue nodded again, but she could tell even then, by the look in his eyes, this wasn't going to be anything good.


End file.
